


Anticipation

by imperfectkreis



Series: Potential [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Established Relationship, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectkreis/pseuds/imperfectkreis
Summary: “I can hear you thinking,” Wedge laughs. It’s short-lived, though, as he only spares a breath before kissing wetly over the bob of Biggs’ throat.Biggs forces a smile into his voice, “I’m always thinking.”Wedge nods, the soft nest of his hair brushing against Wedge’s chin. “You should be thinking about this. About us.”“Trust me,” Biggs assures him, “I am.”
Relationships: Biggs/Wedge (Compilation of FFVII)
Series: Potential [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792111
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Anticipation

They’re going to get caught.

Biggs can feel it in his bones, the same way he can feel Wedge’s warmth pressed tightly against his chest.

The lamps have been off for an hour now. Wedge’s Ma will expect him home soon for dinner with his siblings. The air outside has been cool and dry today. Biggs left the windows open, though the blinds are down to give them a little privacy. There’s little risk of anyone being able to hear the way that Wedge keeps stealing kisses, pecking at Biggs’ mouth, his cheeks, his jaw, his throat.

They’ve been...not hiding. Biggs doesn’t want to think of it as hiding their relationship. He’d be the first to tell absolutely everyone, honest. Just these last few months have been good. Really, really good. He doesn’t pull back when he wants to touch Wedge, grab his shoulder or punch his arm or wrap him in a hug. They stop short of kissing, though. In front of other people. And Biggs hasn’t told anyone directly. And no one has asked about it either, so he can only assume that Wedge hasn’t told anyone either...and...he doesn’t want anything about how good everything has been to change.

Biggs doesn’t want the pressure of performing for other people. Of trying to meet some set of expectations he knows he can’t. He wasn’t exaggerating, when this whole thing started, when he told Wedge that everyone, absolutely everyone in the Sector 7 slums loves him. And Biggs is still just a new face, an interloper. Though he’s under this plate going on two years now. Everyone is going to be suspicious about how he came in and stole their precious Wedge for himself.

Well, that’s maybe true.

Because, fuck, if Biggs doesn’t feel like the center of the universe when Wedge’s attention is focused on him.

“Hey,” Wedge smiles in the dark. They didn’t bother to turn on the light when the lamps shut off. Wedge’s lovely, warm hands press gently into Biggs’ lower abdomen, his fingers barely brushing under the hem of his shirt. 

They haven’t gone much further than this, even when they’re alone. It’s not for a lack of, well, not quite trying, but shy suggestions of Wedge’s part. Biggs isn’t an idiot. Wedge keeps dropping these little hints that he’s maybe ready to take the next step. About how much he trusts Biggs. How he misses him when they’re apart, which isn’t often. But...still. The way he feels after they’ve stopped kissing and touching and it’s time to report home before his Ma misses him too much.

Wedge hasn’t outright asked for it though. Hasn’t articulated exactly what it is he wants. And maybe, just maybe the pressure and expectation that Biggs is putting on himself about being Wedge’s first for basically everything is starting to get to him. Or, actually, it’s getting to him a lot.

If they don’t tell everyone soon, they’re going to get caught. And then the whole Sector is going to assume the worst of Biggs. Like all the things that he secretly thinks about himself, that he’s taking advantage of Wedge’s kindness and his bright eyes and open expression. That he’s too old compared to Wedge to pursue this in good faith. That he’s not actually capable of loving anyone the way Wedge deserves to be loved…

“I can hear you thinking,” Wedge laughs. It’s short-lived, though, as he only spares a breath before kissing wetly over the bob of Biggs’ throat.

Biggs forces a smile into his voice, “I’m always thinking.”

Wedge nods, the soft nest of his hair brushing against Wedge’s chin. “You should be thinking about this. About us.”

“Trust me,” Biggs assures him, “I am.”

“You wanna know what I’m thinking about?” Wedge clicks his tongue inside his mouth. The hand he has pressed into Biggs’ abdomen shifting a little lower. Not enough yet to be obscene, but close. 

“I could guess,” Biggs replies. He can lead them around in circles as long as it takes for Wedge to lose interest and find someone who can treat him better than Biggs can.

Wedge laughs, his joy radiating through Biggs’ tiny home. “If you could guess, we’d be a lot further along right now.” He pauses, sucking air between his teeth before venturing a little closer. “You trust me, right, Biggs?”

Biggs nods, “of course.” He drapes one arm over Wedge’s waist, holding him close. He never wants Wedge to feel unwanted. That’s not why he always hesitates. 

“And I trust you too. So, okay, trust me when I say I want you. That I know what I’m getting into. Well...about as much as I can, given, uh, you know.” Given that Wedge hasn’t been with anyone else. At least not in a way that could prepare him for this.

Biggs exhales, rubbing his hand in slow circles across Wedge’s lower back. Sometimes he does it long enough that Wedge falls asleep in his arms. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but he enjoys it every time.

“Okay...tell me what you want. If you can tell me, we can…”

Wedge groans, shoving his nose tight against Biggs’ sternum. His hot breath soaks through the thin fabric of Biggs’ tee. “I should have known,” his response comes out all muffled. “You can be so mean.”

“I’m not being mean!” Biggs is indignant at the accusation. “I don’t want to make assumptions about what you want.”

“Everything,” Wedge replies with earnest sweetness. “I wanna try everything, with you.”

“Everything, huh?” Biggs smiles, tightening his arm around Wedge’s middle. “That’s an awful lot. And I mean, maybe I’m into some pretty weird stuff…” He’s honestly not. For all Biggs’ experience, he’s never been terribly adventurous. Dwelling on that now unearths another heap of possibilities. Maybe it’s Wedge who would want to try something a little less conventional, and Biggs is only going to hold him back.

“Well, uh, we don’t have to try everything tonight.” Though Biggs can’t exactly see Wedge’s face, he’s pretty sure he’s blushing now. “I know I want...I want you to...um.” Wedge takes a deep breath. “You could fuck me.”

Biggs about chokes on his own spit. That’s...a lot further than he was planning on for a first step. He was thinking more along the lines of some under-the-clothes groping maybe. If Wedge really pushed, using his hand until Wedge was spent. It’s a lot to even think about at the moment. “Well, that escalated quickly,” Biggs tilts his head to look up towards the ceiling.

“We’ve been together for months, Biggs. Are you saying you never even thought about it?” there’s embarrassment seeping through Wedge’s voice. A sort of shame regarding his own desires, now that he thinks they’re not returned.

There’s no easy way out of this. Lie, and hurt Wedge’s feelings even more, or tell the truth and admit that Biggs spends more time than he should thinking about the things they haven’t been doing. “I’ve thought about it, yeah.”

Biggs can practically feel the anxious tension seep out of Wedge’s muscles, replaced with a sort of giddy elation. “So, we should do it, yeah? So you don’t have to just think about it anymore.”

Yeah, because getting to be inside of Wedge is totally the way to stop Biggs thinking about it at inappropriate times.

Biggs doesn’t even have the time to say ‘yes’ before Wedge starts fiddling with his own belt, unhooking it so he can shove his pants awkwardly down his thighs without actually getting out of bed. There’s nothing that Biggs can do but laugh. His head is starting to feel light already, like he’s spinning out of control, too untethered from the planet to tell Wedge to slow down.

Shifting his weight to get up on all fours, Biggs plants one knee on either side of Wedge’s legs. It doesn’t make it any easier to undress, but it lets Biggs dip his head down low to make his lips meet Wedge’s.

Wedge kisses him back with all the enthusiasm Biggs has come to expect, messy and hard but so, so sweet. Only when they pull apart, short of breath and long on smiles, does he find the presence of mind to ask, “you sure?”

Wedge gives him a resolute little nod. “And before you try it. Yes, I know there are like, twelve steps we’re probably skipping that for some reason you think we have to do first. Like, hands and mouths and stuff. But we don’t have to be like everyone else. Right? We don’t have to follow someone else’s script. So if you want it, and I want it, let’s just...do it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Biggs surprises himself. He didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

They end up having to stand up to strip out of their clothes; Biggs’ bed is too small a space for them to comfortably maneuver. They’ve seen each other near-naked before, but never in this context. Biggs turns his back to Wedge giving him a little privacy, as short lived as it might be. When he turns around, he’s greeted by Wedge’s wide-eyed stare, his lips gently parted.

“You’re just really handsome is all,” Wedge sputters, taking a step closer to Biggs.

Biggs still has his boxers on. He glances down just quick enough to confirm that Wedge is bare. They’re really doing this.

Wedge presses his palm flat to Biggs’ chest, spreading his fingers wide. He looks perfect, just like that, soft and inviting and ready, just short enough that when Biggs pulls him close again the top of his head bumps into Biggs’ chin.

“Let’s get you back into bed,” Biggs murmurs into Wedge’s dark hair. Before they move, he reaches between them, brushing his fingers lightly over the initial swell of Wedge’s erection, eliciting an aborted gasp.

Nodding, Wedge backs up towards the bed, climbing in before asking, “How should I?”

“On your back, I think, for this first time.” They’ll have plenty of opportunities, Biggs hopes, to try other things. If Wedge will have him again. But this first time, Biggs wants to be able to see his face, and doesn’t want Wedge to worry about anything else but enjoying himself.

Biggs only owns one pillow, so instead he grabs the top sheet that has fallen off the side of the bed. Bundling it up, he gestures for Wedge to raise his hips, so that he can shove the crumpled bedding into the right position.

“Okay,” Biggs runs his hands along the inside of Wedge’s thighs, watching in the dim light from the neons outside as his legs fall open. At least Wedge looks less nervous than Biggs feels right now. So, that’s something to hold on to.

There’s lube in the tattered shoebox that Biggs keeps next to the bed. Lost the lid ages ago. Not exactly out of sight, but the only real visitor he ever has is Wedge. And otherwise, the bottle blends in with the other personal items shoved into the box.

He kisses Wedge’s knee before pouring out the lube onto his fingers. Trying to stay hard through this is proving difficult. He’s just too nervous to focus, even though Wedge is lovely, spread out beneath him, thighs parted, his ribcage rising and falling with every breath, his dark hair feathered out around his head.

“This shouldn’t hurt,” Biggs says honestly. If it does, that means he’s the one doing something wrong. There will be someone, after Biggs. He’s sure of it. And the last thing he fucking wants is for that person to convince Wedge that this should be anything other than good.

“I trust you,” Wedge assures him, keeping their eyes locked as Biggs works the first finger in. “Besides,” Wedge smiles, then breathes deep. “It’s not like I haven’t done this much to myself.”

Biggs’ eyes widen, before he drops his head, looking away from Wedge’s too-honest face. “You’re going to kill me.”

Wedge laughs, with Biggs still knuckle-deep inside of him.

Unless he focuses, Biggs isn’t going to get very far. Keeping one hand on the inside of Wedge’s thigh, he works a single finger in and out, listening to the tempo of Wedge’s breathing, anticipating when Wedge is going to ask for more and beating him to the request. 

It makes him feel good. Sex makes him feel good. But not in the messy, carnal sort of sense. Not the sensation, or the thrill, or the orgasm. It can make him feel physically good too. That’s not what Biggs means, though, when he says sex makes him feel good.

It’s this, watching the way Wedge relaxes at his touch, the way his cock gets fully hard as Biggs starts to stroke him with his free hand, alternating between light touches and pressing his palm to the center of Wedge’s stomach to feel him sigh. It’s the pleasure that comes with being needed, with performing well, with making sure his partner is happy, content, satisfied. 

At the third finger, Wedge’s toes curl, his hips lifting up off the pile of bedding to start meeting Biggs’ slow thrusts. He’s probably open enough now that Biggs could slip inside, but he wants to stay like this a little longer. It’s not difficult to stay hard now. Not with the way Wedge starts panting his name, clenching down around his fingers, practically begging now for Biggs to join him properly.

Biggs wipes his hand against the sheets. He’s going to have to wash them anyway. Reaching for the lube again, he slicks his cock. It’s his intention to ask Wedge one last time if this is what he really wants, and that he wants it with Biggs, but he’s pretty sure of Wedge’s answer when he reaches out, trying to pull Biggs in close.

So, instead, he says, “Breathe.” And when Wedge does, Biggs pushes in, past the faint tightness around the rim. 

“Oh,” Wedge whispers, “don’t move yet.” 

Biggs will wait as long as it takes. As long as Wedge needs.

It’s not long though, before Wedge nods, his eyes bright and expression fond.

Without any desire on Biggs’ part to hurry up, he takes his time, moving deep and slow, watching the subtle movements in Wedge’s face, trying to learn what works. Maybe he’s being too careful, too cautious, but Wedge doesn’t complain, reaching out with one hand and wrapping it around Biggs’ forearm, locking them both in place.

Wedge is tight and hot and yielding, all the things that feel good and right. He’s expressive and responsive, which is even better. His skin practically vibrating as Biggs fucks slowly into him, sweat starting to stick between their bodies as they stay unspeakably close. With the windows still open, they both stay quiet in the dark.

Feeling the way that Wedge starts to tremble beneath him, biting at his own lips, eyes slipping closed, Biggs does his best to reach between them, holding fast to Wedge’s cock and pumping him a fraction faster than he thrusts. That’s enough to produce a sort of pitched whine from Wedge’s throat, his eyes fully snapping shut as his body rocks against Biggs. His fingers tighten harshly around Biggs’ arm to the point of hurting, before his body goes loose and lax, his spend sticking between their stomachs.

Biggs pulls out, though Wedge doesn’t let go. He hurriedly fucks into the circle of his fist, knowing from experience that if he doesn’t come, his partner will think it’s a slight against them, and that’s the last thing Biggs wants.

“Why’d you stop?” Wedge manages to get out, “you didn’t have to stop.”

Biggs doesn’t explain; he can, after he’s come. And he wants to finish. Wedge still looks so good in his bed, fucked and satisfied and practically glowing against the white sheets. “Help me,” Biggs pleads, before pressing his lips over Wedge’s.

They stay like that several minutes more, kissing messily, teeth and tongues, while Biggs works himself in hand, before he comes across Wedge’s stomach, one of Wedge’s hands now tangled in Biggs’ sweat-soaked hair.

Finished now, Biggs collapses onto his side. He tugs at Wedge until they can find a decent position in Biggs’ tiny bed. “Hey,” Biggs says, kissing Wedge chastely this time to punctuate his happiness. “Good?”

Wedge breaks into a smile, “Good, we should do it again.”

Biggs laughs, “Later, um, I’m sure your Ma is getting worried,” he’s not even sure what time it is.

“Yeah,” Wedge sighs, “it’ll be okay though. You should come over for dinner.”

Biggs shrugs, he doesn’t hate the idea. But he should shower first. They both should. Except it would be even more suspicious if Wedge came home squeaky-clean. Maybe it’s better that he tries to get past his siblings and wash up at home before dinner.

“We should get moving, then, if you’re up to it,” really what he wants, more than anything, is for Wedge to stay right where he is, to keep his bed warm and full. To enjoy the afterglow together.

“Urg,” Wedge gurgles, “I think so. I can still sort of feel it though.”

“Not in a bad way, right?” Biggs tried the best he could.

Wedge starts to sit up, “No, silly. Not bad at all. You worry too—“

The knock at the door causes both of them to tense in unison.

They’re going to get caught.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://imperfectkreis.tumblr.com)


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